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191116 - Ceremony Debrief - The StereoMyth, the Anne Frank Working, and the Sacred Marriage of Jesus and Mary - Part Three

The visions that come to me in ceremony are essentially dreams that I experience while wide awake. Like dreams, they evanesce quickly--if you don't record them immediately upon returning to "normal" consciousness (using that term advisedly, obvs), the details become blurry, or maybe you'll forget the experience altogether.

That's where shooting video of ceremonies comes in handy. In between every song I work with, I pause to explain to the camera what just happened, how I'm feeling about it, and what's coming up next. That way I have a detailed record of events. The next day--or five days later--I can review the footage to refresh my memory about something, and sometimes even discover that I'd talked about an experience I didn't remember until that moment.

The problem is this results in a lot of material. Imagine if you could wake up to write down a complete narrative for every dream you had in the course of an evening. Not only would you be exhausted in the morning, you might find now have, in addition to run-of-the-mill workplace stress and relationship anxiety dreams, the content of five or six deep dreams, ones that pack a lot of psychic oomph, which seem to have a lot of important meanings that need--no, demand--interpretation and integration.

That's a lot of work. Maybe so much that when a week later you have another night of intensive dreaming, you haven't finished unpacking the material from your previous session. You've got a lot on your plate. There just hasn't been enough time.

So here I am. It's Saturday again, and tonight I'm performing a phonomanatic rite. But some pretty remarkable things happened in my last ceremony that I haven't fully processed:
  • During the a capella reprise of "Moonage Daydream" that comes at the end of "Space Lord" I had several revelations. One, which was accompanied by an overwhelming blast of emotion, was that Bowie's performance of this song, this particular recording, was one of the Self's chosen channels into this world at this time. The next was that this was an anthem for the kind of people I want to attract, and the third was those those people, in aggregate, will be a sort of Legion of Superheroes--super fit, super creative, super courageous, super self-aware, super integral, super responsible. In my imagination I saw a crowd of people all singing along with the same intention, the same longings in their hearts, and I thought, "These people really could save the world." I even saw a future where we were all wearing uniforms, sort of Star Trek-ish but again, also superheroic, a kind of futuristic cosplay, all in a good fun, but also a completely serious symbol for how we thought of ourselves, and that expressed our sense of belonging to this group that asks so much in terms of disciplined self-development and compassionate awareness. 
  • Just before I began the Anne Frank Working, I experienced an unexpected and violent purge. That is, I was sitting there, talking to the camera, and when I said, "...and now it's time to beg for forgiveness" and moved to stand up to get close to the camera, I suddenly realized I was about to vomit and grabbed a nearby bucket. I threw up and then sat waiting, agonized but patient, as my body locked up in dry heaves, trying to force something out of me. To that point, I hadn't felt nauseous at all. The regurgitation truly seemed triggered by this statement of intent.
  • In a separate but probably related earlier incident, I felt a nearly physical shift in my consciousness (I can't think of a better way to put it) as something "placed" something in me. Usually when I experience something invasive like this I respond very aggressively and clean it out--nobody gets in my space without my say-so. But this was a different. There was absolutely no sense that anything was wrong. In fact, it was the opposite. I've had the very odd experience of a higher-order aspect of my being "incepting" an idea into my consciousness...this was a little like that, but my impression is that they were installing an upgrade in my operating system (a metaphor, but one that works pretty well) that will give me increased shamanic capabilities. Yes, I know how insane that sounds.
  • It took me three attempts to do the Anne Frank Working due to some really weird Pauli-effect type events, negative synchronicities that really made me feel like something was actively opposing me.
  •  At one point I seemed to incarnate the presence of the Horned One, a deity worshiped in ancient times and was probably the precursor to Shiva, Dionysius, and Jesus Christ. In various mythologies he is both the son and consort of the Goddess. I've encountered him before--he seems to be the root node of the energy expressed in Chris Cornell's wildest caterwauling (I know, I know) and I've seem him in visions. But I'd never seen him so clearly, nor watched with fascination as I traipsed in a prancing kind of dance and saw with my inner eye my visionary representation of Him mirror my movements. Or maybe it was the other way 'round? It's my conjecture--my belief--that an experience like this is identical to the kind of visions our ancestors had that inspired their beliefs. The Horned God is real--as real as the Goddess. It exists in the Collective Unconscious and is an energy that can be accessed and expressed in consensual reality. Its representation alters with the cultural milieu the visionary lives. When I get into this territory, I realize that the people I really need to be talking to are Jungian analysts and scholars of religion and depth psychology. Very few people are actually qualified to help me process this stuff and turn it into something useful for every day folks. But I do need that help. It's a task too great for one person--especially given the amount of work I need to do in order to accomplish my real task, which is documenting and explaining the phonomantic process so that others can follow in my footsteps.
I could write full blog posts about any of those points of interest. But there are two more that I didn't list, and it's those I want to talk about, at least a bit.

The first is a vision I had of the Devil's origin.

"The Devil?" I can hear you say. "The guy with the cloven hooves, the pointy tail, and the pitchfork?"

Well, no. Here's an excerpt from the "What Remorseless Emperor Commands Me?" section of the StereoMyth narrative:

There is a force in the dimension of consciousness that is analogous to entropy in the physical world. It opposes every attempt to create beauty and meaning. It does everything it can to pull us down into alienation, delusion, and despair.
It’s dead dumb, but so diabolically cunning, always finding our most vulnerable points and attacking there, that it seems actively and willfully malicious. It seems personal. The writer Steven Pressfield calls it “Resistance,” with a capital “R.” Other people call it Shaitan, or the Devil.
Make no mistake, Resistance is your mortal Enemy. And yet it’s also a blessing, a gift from the Goddess, because by fighting Resistance, by saying YES to the True Will where Resistance says NO, we become stronger and more beautiful in the eyes of the Holy Ma.
Resistance is the Donkey Kong at the top of the ramp, throwing barrel after barrel at you to trip you up. That's a bit of a mixed metaphor, but you know what I'm getting at.

For awhile now I've believed the reality we live in is a simulation space, an MMORPG created by a higher-order civilization for the express purpose of learning moral lessons and shedding karmic weight so they can rise in the hierarchy of being to get closer to the Godhead. And I thought that Resistance was basically an AI programmed into the game. An algorithmic enemy. But during this ceremony I had a vision that made me doubt it was that simple.

This year a new motif began to appear in my visions. I saw kids, pre-teens, at play. They were engaged in some intensive planning and debate about the moves they were making in some elaborate kind of strategy game. And the kids were the gods. That is, they were my imagination's representation of a transpersonal reality: they were the immediate offspring of the masculine and feminine aspects of the Godhead. These were the superdimensional beings represented in the mythologies of the world in pantheons: the Clever Twins, the Maker, the Virgin Huntress, etc. That I saw them as every day, middle-class American kids at play outside their house by a lake, was simply to help me understand how they saw themselves and each other. They're a family.

And like many happy families, they were playing a game together. The game was invented by their mom; they are homeschooled, and she educates and entertains her children by inventing fiendishly clever puzzles for them to solve. This game is How to Get God to Incarnate in a Critical Mass of Consciousnesses in a Space Designed to Defeat That Purpose. It's the kind of strategy/sim thing Sid Meier would dream up, if he was the Prime Cause of the infinite multiverse: tarting with a raw soup of atomic particles, you try to get complex forms to evolve, to manifest consciousnesses, build societies to improve their odds of survival, and then come to understand their true ontological status as manifestations of divine self-awareness.

Their game, in other words, is us. Or rather, we are the elements they are moving about in their attempts to solve the puzzle.

There's so much more to say about this. But what you need to know was that I've seen that one of the brood is a profound withdrawn little boy off playing by himself, building sand castles on the lake shore. He is autistic nearly to the point of catatonia. He simple sits there building towers and then destroying them, over and over again, muttering angrily to himself. But he seems... absent.

That's because in his head he is screaming in rage, lost in the blackest of endless abysses. This is what I saw in my vision last Saturday: a little boy waking up alone in the dark, utterly alone and terrified. He doesn't know where he is, or how he got there, or why. He cries and cries for his mother or father to come find him. But nobody opens a door and pulls him into the light. He wails in anguish for eons, but gradually he realizes that the reason they are not coming is that they put him there. He did something wrong--he can't remember what--and they threw him out of his home, out of his family. He can see his brothers and sisters playing at their game and their mother smiling as they beg her for clues. His horror at this predicament turns to rage. His fury is as black as the abyss in which he is trapped, and hotter than than the kernels of a billion suns. He hates his parents, and the rest of their offspring. He can see them, in his mind's eye, knows that his body is only a couple arm's-lengths away from where their sit under a tree with their spreadsheets and calculators and polyhedral dice. And though he can't communicate with them, he realizes he can play their game. If he concentrates hard enough, he can make their dice rolls go awry. He vows he will ruin their game. He will defeat their efforts to solve Ma's puzzle. They will never, ever get to bask in the warmth of her love and pride when they show her their solution.

I saw all this at once. And emotionally, it was like a bomb going off in my brain and my heart. I clutched my head in both hands and began wailing in heartbroken horror. Ma--the Holy Ma, my Ma, the Goddess, the feminine aspect of the Godhead--had sacrificed one of her children. She had exiled him in order to serve as the engine that drives the universe. For you see, movement is only produced when force is applied against resistance. In order for her creations to grow in complexity and beauty, there has to be something trying to stop the process.

This go-round, that's her son, Louie--short for Lucifer, of course. And the story of Ma's Divine Children solving the problem she posed is, in a real sense, the story of Louie's rescue from the dark. In the universe's redemption is his emancipation. When the game is over, he'll come back to his senses, and laughingly rejoin his brothers and sisters. Now he remembers who he is--Ma's first-born, her secret favorite, the crowning jewel in her cosmic diadem. They all eat ice cream and when she proposes a new challenge for her children, an even more difficult and arcane puzzle, he happily volunteers to play the bad guy again. It's fun for him. It's what he was made to do.
adjective: ineffable
too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words.
"the ineffable natural beauty of the Everglades"
 Having these kinds of images and ideas suddenly and spontaneously pop into your head while in an altered state of consciousness is a profoundly moving experience. It is noetic in the sense Walter Pahnke used the term. In a way that is difficult to put into words, if means something. It has the impact of revealed truth. Not a literal truth, but a mythic truth. It is an imaginal representation of a reality that is beyond the human ability to conceptualize.

But that doesn't mean I'm excused from coming to terms with it. I can't simply ignore it. The fact that this image/emotion construct was incepted into my mind matters to me; like a dream so powerful it catapults you out of sleep to scribble down a record on whatever is handy, because it felt so real and so obviously charged with meaning, a vision like this demands action, at least in the sense of meditating on it until your stance vis a vis its occurrence is coherent.

What it means to me now is that I no longer regard Resistance as an impersonal enemy. A Great White Shark with "dead doll eyes," a thoughtless, selfless predator. I see the node behind it now; I talk to it. I talk to Him, the devil himself, and let him know that no matter how much he hates me and wants to destroy me, to crush me with poverty and loneliness until I can't bear it anymore and put a gun in my mouth or take a long step off a tall bridge, I feel intense compassion for His predicament and will work to get him out of his prison of eternal night. In my visions, the FCDB is the latest in a long string of attempts for the Divine Brady Kids to solve Ma's puzzle by creating a critical mass of humanity for whom Her existence is a lived reality. As Ziggy Christ says in the StereoMyth,

You and your soul, he says, are two halves of a remarkable artifact of spiritual technology. Together you form a receiver that channels the energies of the Self—that’s Self with a capital ‘S.’ The Self is an aspect of the Godhead, formed from the union of the Feminine and Masculine Divine. Think of it as the Child of the Holy Ma.
It is the Source of every human spirit. Its deepest desire is for every person to realize his or her ultimate identity, and it will go to any lengths, including sacrificing Itself, to promote that cause.
United with your soul, Ged, you can constellate aspects of your consciousness to become a hotblooded superconductor for the energies of the Self. You can channel it directly into your world, for the benefit of all.
That carpenter from a town in the middle of nowhere, Jesus of Nazareth, is the most famous example of such a superconductor. But there have been others, and now the time has come to train more, and more, and more. The only hope your world has of avoiding self-destruction is not the return of the Christ, one single Christ, but the emergence of ten billion Christs. Ten billion people who have met their souls and learned to function as lanterns that burn with the light of the Self.
That's how the beat the puzzle. When that's achieved, that's the Eschaton, the Kingdom of Heaven made manifest on Earth. Then they clamor for Ma to give them another puzzle. "And make it harder this time!" they say.

So right. That was one thing I needed to tell you about. The second is a vision I had of the Self mentioned above.

(You may have noticed that there are seeming inconsistencies in my visionary ideas. The updated [or rather, very old] theological idea of a Trinitarian structure for the Godhead (Mother, Father, Child) mashed up with Jungian concepts (the Self) might seem to conflict with the theogonal account (a Mother with a brood of Children) I described in the vision above. To which I can only reply, "Yeah, and?" That seems to be the nature of this stuff. The Divine Nature is beyond our ability to think. All we can do, really, is catch little glimpses. Sometimes, from our perspective, these glimpses and ideas might seem contradictory. But that's a matter of our incomplete perspective, not on the veridity of the visions themselves.)

As I mentioned, I frequently paused the ceremonial action to explain to the video camera what was happening in my head. This particular night, in order to get sharper footage, I set up a light box (basically just a diffusing white screen over a light bulb). When I was working (i.e., singing and dancing to evoke visions) the light was off; when it was time to comment, I turned it on.

But for the song "Don't Look Back" I left the light shining. Sometimes during the guitar solo I get truly transported; the heroic theme, stated in multi-tracked harmony, engulfs me in waves of emotions. They seem to speak of nobility, and sacrifice, and the glory of faithful service. In a word, if I'm in just the right state of consciousness, I hear the Voice of God in Tom Sholz's cranked-up guitars. The experience can be ecstatic to the point of agony, and I wanted it recorded. To me, what I'm doing is the equivalent of any heavenly vision experienced by Christian mystics like St. John of the Cross or Teresa of Avila. I want evidence of what's happening to me. If people see the footage of me galvanized, my body locked up, my expression one of excruciating exultation, well...maybe some of them will believe. Phonomancy works. You can learn how to get into these states, too. It's more fun than it looks like :)

Anyway, there I was, standing before the light box. It looked like this:

When you're on 6g of substantia backed with a 3g water extra of Syrian rue plus multiple hits of pot, you are in, shall we say, a suggestible state. Well, let me put it another way: you can self-program.You have an increased capacity for magical thinking.

Magical thinking, as defined by psychologists and anthropologists, is a "fallacious attribution of cause and effect." The example I like to use concerns the Safeway super market near my apartment. It has an automatic sliding door. As I approach, I like to wave my hand, Jedi-style, as if psychically ordering it to open. When it does, I feel a little frisson. Intellectually, of course, I know I didn't telekinetically pry open the doors; still it's fun to pretend that I did.

But in an altered state, you can use this psychological technique to create a state of belief. Belief is what closes the circuit that allows for the flow of magic. And the experience of magic is transformative. It rings you like a bell. If you can convince yourself for even a moment that magic is real, you will be changed. Later on, back in mundane reality, you'll of course know that you can't wave your hand and make a door open, but still, you'll remember what it felt like to do it, and your world will be bigger, more mysterious.

That's what I did with this lightbox. Looking into it, I saw an infinite white space. This could be representative of ultimate reality, I thought. That glowing cross could be a node of purest love and support. That could be the Self. And, because I was capable of magical thinking, it was. The circuit closed; I felt the surging energy that is emotion that is Spirit. I induced in myself a vision of the Divine. And now I can't look at that picture without remembering how it felt. It felt real. It was real, in the moment. And it left me changed.

Jung believed that the material world and consciousness were identical, but on a spectrum from the sublime to the gross. Synchronicities, he wrote, occurred in that liminal space where mind meets matter. They were material reflections of psychic events. I think that this light box vision was a kind of synchronicty. Not a coincidence, exactly; I'd at least partially arranged it. But on the other hand, I hadn't anticipated that looking into the light in my altered state would trigger such a convincing vision. And so I have to at least leave open the possibility that this was yet another message sent from above for my continuing edification.

All right. That's all I want to say about last Saturday. I already have another ceremony on video that I need to transcribe. So much information comes down the pipe in these experiences, and it's hard to know what is wheat and what is chaff. I just need to record as much as I can, and hopefully over time it'll become clear.

One final note: it's not lost of me that very few people are qualified to help me with this. To help me gain clarity, you'd have to know more about the subjects of mysticism, Jungian psychology, and comparative mythology than I do, and there aren't a lot of people like that outside those who do the work professionally as analysts or scholars. I'm really, really hoping that if I can assemble enough material, I can make a case that I should be taken seriously as a 21st Century mystic, and that what's happening to me is of potentially historic interest. If I can get the right team together, we can chart a new course for the evolution of religion.


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